


My Beloved Is Mine, and I Am His

by zjofierose



Series: Misty!Verse [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (a little bit anyway), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Defiling of a perfectly innocent throne, M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Purple Prose, Sexual Fantasy, Shirocest, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: It’s been six months, and it’s time that Keith was crowned. (Set after the events of To Honor, Cherish, and Obey.)Basically, every time I asked myself “is this too extra?” I reminded myself what I was writing, and said “nah.” Read 👏 the 👏 tags 👏!!!!Unbeta’d, so I’m sure there are way too many commas and probably some typos. Sorry.





	My Beloved Is Mine, and I Am His

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ailurea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SARAH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!!

The coronation of Prince Consort Keith Kogane of Marmora is a big event. Not as big, perhaps, as his wedding to the Kings Shirogane - there are fewer foreign dignitaries and more lower-level nobility, by design - but it is still one of the largest events the Kingdom of Atlas has seen in many years, the largest (other than the wedding) since the joint coronation of the Kings Shirogane themselves. It has been six months since the joint nuptials in the frozen light of midwinter solemnized the  three-way union between Atlas’ twin kings and their foreign betrothed, six months of the people of Atlas learning to accept their stranger prince, six months of Keith learning to love his husbands and learning to be loved (at length) by them. Now the time has come to firmly formalize the union between Keith and the kingdom itself.

His coronation is to be the climax of a week of festivities: The Shirogane twins kick off the events on a fine summer morning with a jousting match followed by a fighting competition wherein they quickly take the lead. They are as evenly matched in fighting as they are in everything else, and while Shiro has the advantage of size and experience, Ryou has the advantage of cunning. They fight to a sweaty, heaving draw, and Keith proclaims them both the winners, rewarding them with purses of golden coins to distribute to the crowd and chaste kisses delivered to large cheers. 

He rewards them in private with kisses again, far less chaste, but equally well-received.

Keith dresses himself in his northern clothes and walks the marketplace, admiring the decorations and perusing the wares. He bestows favors on shopkeepers, purchases trinkets to send to his family in Marmora. There are no truly destitute in Atlas, the Shirogane twins have made sure of it, but there are still the less fortunate, and Keith does what he can to bring his substantial retinue through those alleys of the town, ducking into the darkened shops, leaving coins on the table in the more humble of pubs and taverns. He is not allowed the generalship of his former life, but he wields his influence as sharply as any sword.

There is a ball in the middle of the week, and several banquets. Invited diplomats come and go; family and friends of the Shirogane, as well as a small delegation from Marmora come to view the festivities and take part in the feasting and the fighting; various trade delegations proffer their choicest offerings for the Kings and their husband on the auspicious occasion. The time passes swiftly in a blur of color and heat, of perfumed nobles and groaning tables laden with the bounty of this beautiful summer land.

—

Keith has seen his crown. Ryou had wanted to keep it a surprise, but the requirements of fitting it to Keith’s head, making sure the weight would not be too great and that the padding sat correctly meant that it was not logistically feasible to do so. Keith doesn’t mind; he’s ever been leery of receiving surprises, much as the Shiroganes have been trying to break him of his suspicion. Nonetheless, the only received surprise he recalls enjoying were the looks on his husbands’ faces when his veil was lifted. He’d thought they’d be stoic, but their eyes...he shivers in pleasant remembrance. 

He, on the other hand, does have a surprise for them. He fingers the thin, fine, silk of his coronation outfit, carefully hidden deep in his dressing room, far from prying eyes. He’d sent his measurements to his mother’s clothier, along with a description of what he had in mind, and the result is stunning. Deep purple silk in thin layers, suited to the heat that pervades even this far north at the height of summer, stitched over in the smallest of black seed pearls in the patterns of the stars as they appear in his native land. The pant legs bloom from the narrow dipped waist, flaring out in large, loose bell shapes before drawing in at the ankle. The top is a construction of narrow bands crossing and weaving, lending an image of being elegantly bound, but leaving his arms free and bare. The veil this time falls only to his waist, but is of a shimmering lavender gauze, embroidered in the same constellation motif as the pants in the palest of grey thread.

Keith turns his attention to the final pieces of his outfit, resting as they do on the table to his side, ready for him to slip them on in the morning. Shiro and Ryou had presented them to him at the beginning of the week, kneeling naked at his feet, each one holding up an ornate arm cuff. 

“An anniversary present,” Ryou had said, taking Keith by the hand. The metal circle in his palm was gold, edged with silver filigree, and studded with moonstone and quartz. “To celebrate our first half-year.”

“Will you wear them?” Shiro’s voice, as always, was softer, but he held his cuff just as high, the gold filigree on its silver surface glinting against the onyx and black tourmaline of its own decoration.

“Of course,” Keith had breathed, and kissed them both, holding out his arms so that they could clasp the cuffs around his biceps. He likes the weight of them, the visible claim. He belongs to his twins, and he likes for the world to know it.

—

The eighth and final day of the festival of Keith’s coronation dawns hot and clear, the sky a high, fierce blue, the sun blazing well before even the earliest of breakfast times. 

Keith had summarily kicked his husbands out as soon as they had all risen, shooing them to make their own ablutions in other accommodations while he monopolized their shared bathing room. The ceremony is not till the evening, after the heat of the day has passed and the shadows begin to fall, but Keith pours himself into a tub of chilled water and washes his body thoroughly. He scrubs away the sweat of the night and the leavings of his lovers, opening himself to the water and rinsing away any trace of impurities left on his skin. Once his person is clean, he turns his attention to his hair, unwinding it until it falls thick and black to his waist. He submerges it in a tub of icy water, scrubbing it with perfumed shampoos and rinsing it until the water runs clean, then combs it straight and wet, the evaporating water raising goosebumps on his skin even as the heat of the day rises.

The oiling is next: scented oils for his hair, sweet jasmine and sharp clove, adding their shine to the length of it. He combs them in and takes himself out to his private balcony to dry in the sun while he oils his skin, light seed oils across the bulk of his wide shoulders and trim waist, his long legs and strong chest. He dabs touches of perfume on his wrists, the hollow of his neck, the bends of his elbows and knees. The heat of the day will sink them into his skin and leave him a clean and fragrant gift by evening. 

The rest of his preparation he does quickly, not wanting to linger when he knows how easily he could fall into distraction contemplating his husbands and what he wants to do with them. The unscented oil and two fingers suffice; he’s relaxed and content, and he doesn’t try to draw it out, but rather makes sure that all is ready, then lies back to rest until it’s time to dress. 

—

The ceremony begins as the sun hits the rim of the distant mountains, throwing rays of light around the immense valley that surrounds the capital city. The doors to the throne room are thrown open by the guards, and the trumpeters in their full regalia blare the announcement of his presence. 

It’s deja vu, staring up the long aisle toward the two men who stand on the dais at the end, waiting for Keith to make his long, slow procession toward them through the packed hall. At the same time, it’s completely different - today he comes to them as known and beloved, to be received fully as a co-ruler, to claim in their entirety all of the rights and roles which had been laid out in the contracts between their kingdoms nearly a year previous. The wedding six months ago was the beginning, this is the ending; or rather, the end of the beginning, but also the beginning of something new. 

Keith steps forward, one bejeweled foot in front of the other, and the crowd cheers, bringing a smile to his face. He keeps his pace stately, his head tipped down; the weight of the edging of his veil is enough to keep it in place as he walks, provided he doesn’t move quickly, which suits him fine. Anticipation, as he has learned, improves nearly everything.

The cheers are heartening, going on and on, and he makes no attempt to hide his smile at his reception. It’s gratifying evidence of the hard work he’s put in since his arrival, acting as diplomat, palace manager, and general liaison. Shiro rules the military capably and firmly while Ryou runs the country with shrewdness and devotion. Neither have neglected the small folk by any means, but Keith had seen a space and claimed it for his own, introducing initiatives to improve local trade and government, to provide a better security net for the populace, and to generally improve the state of those around him, from his husbands on down. Ryou and Shiro have given him free reign and whatever support he required, and the results have made him a popular figure in his own right, even in such a short period of time.

When his steps bring him to the foot of the dais, he makes the full bodied prostration bow of his people, ducking his head and stretching his arms out toward the men who stand waiting before him, his husbands and sovereigns. There is no religious authority this time - Keith is to be crowned by the kings themselves, as the only authorities able to confer such an honor. 

“Keith Akira Kogane, Prince of Marmora and Prince Consort to the Throne of Atlas, please rise.” Keith expects Ryou’s voice, but it’s Shiro’s instead, his tones faintly rougher, ever so slightly deeper, the mark of years around campfires and survival through all kinds of weather. He looks up as Shiro’s voice fades away to see Ryou’s ringed hand extended down to him where he’s knelt at their feet. Keith reaches to take it, his other hand reaching for Shiro’s grip, because where one twin is offering, so is the other, and with a firm grasp on each of his husbands, he rises elegantly to his feet. 

“Prince of Marmora,” Ryou begins, and Keith turns his shoulders to face him, “you are here today to fulfill and complete the terms of the agreement between our peoples negotiated prior to and resulting in this union.” Ryou’s gaze is steady, and for all that he is rarely serious in private, he is very much so now. Keith holds his gaze, respect for his husband and monarch written in every line of his body. “Do you wish to continue?”

“I do,” Keith answers firmly, his voice loud and clear as the crowd murmurs happily behind him.

“Prince Consort to the Atlean Throne,” Shiro says from his other side, and Keith turns to face him instead, regarding him with the same calm reverence he’d directed at Shiro’s brother a moment ago. “Do you wish to be crowned and recognized forever as a member of the Royal House of Shirogane?”

“I do.”

“By being crowned here, today, you renounce all personal claim to the throne of Marmora,” Ryou cautions, and as much as Keith has known and consented to this over and over, it’s still bittersweet. He regrets none of the decisions that have led him here, he enjoys his new life, and yet the permanence of foreswearing his homeland, the crown he was born to, is still an ache in his chest. The twins know it, and Ryou’s gaze is understanding, allowing Keith to lift his chin without hesitation.

“I understand.”

“Do you, Keith,” Shiro asks him, voice gentle but stern, “fully set aside allegiance to any foreign power in favor to House Shirogane?”

It’s a difficult question, and carefully worded. Part of the agreement has always been that Marmora and Atlas will be bound to each other as inseparable allies, and that the heirs to the Marmoran throne will be handpicked by Keith from the children he will raise with his husbands. He will always bear allegiance to his home country, and it is in fact that loyalty which has compelled him to where he stands now.

He’d discussed it at length with the twins, unable to commit to refusing to consider Marmora or her needs in all future considerations, or to believe that the terms of the agreement were designed to force him to do so. It was Shiro who had talked him through it as Ryou watched, pointing out that, since Atlas was the larger and more powerful country, putting its needs first would nearly always equal beneficial outcomes to Marmora; the strength and stability of Atlas would in of itself secure the strength and security of Marmora. Further, House Shirogane would comprise not only Shiro and Ryou, but also, once crowned, Keith himself and all of their heirs, thus ensuring that any loyalty to them would not compromise his oath.

“Do you trust us, Keith?” Ryou had interrupted finally, his voice gentle. Keith had looked between them, seeing in their faces the reflection of the vows they had made to honor, to respect, to protect and revere. 

“I do,” he says without wavering, and Shiro’s mouth lifts in the barest hint of a smile.

Ryou’s voice reclaims his attention. “Do you promise that you will rule justly and fairly, with the dignity and respect of the crown, and with the best interests of your subjects ever at heart?”

“I will.”

“Do you promise,” Shiro says gravely, “to give the country, its people, and its rulers the very best of yourself for the rest of your days?”

Keith draws a deep breath. He’d come here six months ago a stranger, promised as little more than an expensive political pawn, but a willing one in order to preserve the people and country who raised him. Here, now, he is being offered a new people, a new country. A new family.

“I promise,” he says, and Ryou beams.

“Very well,” Ryou places his hands on the lovely crown sitting on a low table between the twins. It curves in a silver circlet, dipping low in the front with a distinctly non-Northern point, holding a large scarlet stone in the front while gems of deep purple wend their ways around the rest of the carefully engraved metal. The elegant sweeping lines of the decorative motifs echo those of the cuffs on his arms, and he can’t help but smile as Shiro’s hands join his brother’s as they lift the crown together. 

“Then,” Ryou says, “by the authority of the rulers of House Shirogane, I pronounce you Prince Regent Keith Akira Shirogane, member of the Royal House of Shirogane and co-monarch of the Kingdom of  Atlas.”

Shiro’s metal fingers lift Keith’s veil cleanly from his head, and he feels the cool weight of the silver settle over his brow, carefully lowered with equal speed by his husbands, his lovers, his kings.

“People of Atlas,” Shiro says, pushing gently on Keith’s shoulders and turning him to face the crowd, “I present to you your Prince Regent, Keith Akira Shirogane!”

The roar of the crowd overwhelms him, rolling through the room and echoing out into the courtyard where thousands have gathered, the trumpets blaring and applause thundering as the nation shouts its approval. Keith smiles, and lets the matching weight of the hands on his shoulders ground him.

—

The guests have not gone; in fact Keith can hear the last of them still carrying on in the banquet hall, but the three of them have taken their leave, Keith in the middle with a Shirogane King to each side. Their grip on him is sure and full of intent, and Keith is grateful that the folds of his loose pants largely conceal the responsive interest his body has taken in the confidence of the hands upon his person. 

He expects them to head to their quarters, but the twins detour as one when they come to the throne room, and Keith finds himself for the second time this day walking up the long aisle to the dais, albeit this time with a hand over his eyes. 

“We have a gift,” Shiro says without preamble, coming to a stop at the foot of the platform which holds the Shirogane thrones, and Keith laughs softly.

“You’ve already given me a gift,” he says, biddable and happy in the loose embrace around him. 

“Mm,” Ryou says, voice teasingly stern, “ _ that _ was an anniversary gift.  _ This _ is a coronation gift.”

“How silly of me to have not realized the obvious difference,” Keith murmurs, and Shiro snorts to his right, dropping his hand from Keith’s face without ceremony.

Keith blinks, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the throne room in the late evening, the heavy dusk and light of the full moon streaming in through the rose window. On the dais in front of them where there have always sat twin oaken thrones there now sits a new one, carved from mahogany and upholstered with deep red velvet, smaller but no less elegant than the pair that rest one to either side of it. He catches his breath, and Shiro’s hand comes gentle on his lower back.

“We want you to be our equal in all things,” he says quietly, the strength in his voice echoed in the sturdiness and carefully leashed power of his body where it hovers close to Keith’s own. Ryou’s hand joins Shiro’s, the two of them together spanning Keith’s torso from hip to hip, and he feels tears start in his eyes at how loved, how welcomed, he feels here.

“Come now, none of that,” Ryou teases him gently, tipping Keith’s chin up into a friendly kiss that goes quickly sharp and heated, pulling back with a twinkle in his eye even as Keith fists a hand into the heavy brocade of his doublet. “Don’t you want to try it out?” 

Keith hums in agreement, already climbing the steps to stand in front of it, stroking his fingers down the squared arms, tracing the design at the top. It’s reminiscent of the rising sun, a delicate counterpoint to the stylized moons which grace the tops of the Shirogane thrones, the sigil of House Shirogane. 

“Your grace,” Shiro says, taking Keith’s hand and lifting it to his lips as he makes a full court bow. His eyes when they rise to Keith’s face are burning, and Keith feels a shiver run through him at the heated promise in that stormcloud gaze. 

“My lord,” Ryou takes his other hand and leads Keith to his new seat, lifting it and pulling so that Keith turns and stands before his own throne, gazing out into the now empty hall. “Does it meet with your pleasure?”

Keith sets his hands on the arms of it, lowering himself down to the seat, and the twins kneel as one before him, assuming the poses of supplicants come to beg his favor.

Keith smiles. The moonlight on Shiro at this angle makes him glow, illuminating his hair beneath his crown and highlighting the planes of his face as he looks adoringly up at Keith. Ryou faces Keith straight on, his own crown limned in light, his face in darkness broken only by his mischievous eyes, watching every shift Keith makes in his new seat.

Keith leans over, stretching out one long leg between them and dragging Ryou in for a wet kiss, tongue pressing into Ryou’s mouth as he surges up to meet Keith halfway, hands coming to settle on Keith’s knees. Shiro groans beside them, and Keith reaches out blindly for him, feeling his hand captured and pressed to Shiro’s face, Shiro’s mouth turning to press reverent kisses into Keith’s palm even as Ryou slides a hand unsubtly up Keith’s thigh.

“ _ Thank you,” _ Keith breathes, and Ryou puts his mouth to the bare skin of Keith’s wrist, just above where the dark lace of his gloves ends. 

“You approve?” Ryou’s tone is amused, his eyebrow quirked, and Keith grins in response, shifting side to side on the well-padded cushion in an imitation of discomfort. He slides one bare foot into Shiro’s lap, pressing it firmly against the bulge he finds there even as he keeps his eyes on Ryou and makes a  _ moue _ of disappointment.

“It’s a little uncomfortable,” he says, letting his voice go slightly plaintive. “I don’t know. Maybe I need something better to sit on?”

Ryou grins wickedly and reaches over to smack his brother on the ass. “You heard the Prince Regent, Shiro,” he says, even as Shiro raises one disbelieving eyebrow at his twin, “get up there and help make him comfortable.”

Shiro rolls his eyes at both of them, but stands without hesitation, offering his hand to Keith, who holds out his arms instead. Shiro bends to scoop him up, his gentle giant, and Keith kisses him lingeringly as Shiro settles into the throne with Keith in his lap. The heat between them is different than between himself and Ryou, but their love and devotion no less deep, their desire for each other the deep and unceasing roll and pull of the tide.

“Beautiful,” Ryou murmurs reverently from in front of them, and Keith pulls apologetically away from Shiro’s mouth, squirming in Shiro’s lap as his huge hands make their way across his body, a dragging, drugging caress that pulls his hips hard against Shiro’s. 

“Better?” Shiro asks, his voice an amused rumble in Keith’s ear, and Keith wriggles a bit against the solid bulge that’s pressing into the curve of his ass and pretends to consider the question. 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Keith says, and Ryou snickers softly in front of them, his hands busily moving up Keith’s legs. “I feel like I’m really sliding around. What if I fall? Or slip off? It’s really very precarious.” Shiro’s forehead thunks against Keith’s shoulder, and Keith can feel him trying not to laugh even as his hands grip tightly to Keith’s waist. “If only there were something to anchor myself on.”

“If only,” Ryou agrees from where he’s just discovered the secret of Keith’s pantaloons. His hand slips into the slit of them, wrapping around the curve of Keith’s ankle. “Brother, might you have something with which you could hold our dear Prince Regent in place?”

“Mm,” Shiro, ever attuned to his twin’s actions, slides his hands from Keith’s waist to his thighs, clever fingers finding the well-disguised overlap of fabric that has kept Keith decent but unrestrained for the entirety of the evening. His hands grip at Keith’s bare flesh and Keith tips his head back and moans, undone as always at the sensations of Shiro’s unbridled strength against his body. “I might. Lend me a hand, brother, see what you can find.” 

Keith barely has time to reach up and wrap his grip around the top of the throne, pulling up and lifting himself out of Shiro’s lap before Ryou’s deft fingers move to his brother’s pants. Shiro’s large hands hold Keith’s legs out of the way, his mouth sucking a bruise to Keith’s ribs through a gap in the fabric of his top as Ryou makes short work of Shiro’s flies. Keith can hear the hitch in Shiro’s breath as Ryou gets a hand on him, and then there are knowing fingers rubbing at his nipple as he hears the brothers’ mouths meet in a heated kiss. 

Keith sighs languidly even as his arms begin to tremble at holding himself aloft for an extended time, pleased to be pinned between the men he loves as they pleasure each other, but Ryou breaks away with a laugh and pulls back to consider him.

“This is clever work,” he says, eyeing the split in the fabric of Keith’s garb. He slips a finger into the slit at the inside of Keith’s knee, tracing it higher and higher. “How far does it go, I wonder?”

The question is very obviously rhetorical, as his hand wraps firmly around Keith’s already aching cock even as Shiro takes his cue from his brother and slides an inquiring touch between Keith’s cheeks. There’s no resistance as his finger probes deeper, the combination of the heat of the day, the oil from earlier, and Keith’s unflinching desire for his lovers allowing him to slip in to the heated core of Keith’s self.

Shiro’s whole body goes tense beneath him, and Ryou bites his lip as Keith moans loudly. 

“You’ve been holding out on us, little one.” His voice is full of promise as he places a guiding hand under Keith’s tailbone and fists the other around Shiro’s hardness. “A surprise of your own, yes?”

“A gift,” Keith breathes as Ryou guides him down onto Shiro’s cock, sheathing him within Keith’s body in one slow, smooth motion. He can hear Shiro breathing roughly in his ear, and he takes a moment to flex his hands on the wood of the throne to ground himself, Shiro’s body hot and hard beneath him.

“A very welcome gift indeed,” Shiro’s voice is tight and dark in his ear, almost felt as much as heard. Keith moans openly, reaching for Ryou as Shiro moves his hands from Keith’s hips to his collar bones, stroking hard down his chest across the bands of cloth. He wraps his metal fist in them and uses them to drag Keith up just enough, then pull him back down to bottom out into Shiro’s lap. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Ryou breathes, and Keith can see the motion of his hand, that his hose are open and his cock is out, his grip moving languorously over himself as he watches his brother and his husband begin to move. His face takes on a considering look, and Shiro takes another grip of the bands that make up Keith’s top, rolling his hips hard and moving Keith where he wants him by the sheer strength of his prosthetic arm. 

“We had it built strong,” Shiro says, apropos of nothing, and Ryou nods, stepping forward. “Come here.”

“Beloved,” Ryou says, reaching down to catch Keith’s face in his hands and kiss him deeply, “how would you have me?”

“Naked,” Keith answers without hesitation, then moans distractedly as Shiro rolls his hips again and rubs against Keith’s insides. His cock is drooling against his belly, and Shiro reaches a large finger around to gather up the mess. Ryou must be aching for it, because, uncharacteristically, he doesn’t tease at all but rather pulls off his vest and shirt unceremoniously while kicking off his boots. He’s naked in under a minute, hose tossed in a heap to the side, and Shiro’s hips have not once broken their slow, undulating rhythm and Keith thinks he may die if he doesn’t come soon.

“Shiro,” Ryou whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to his brother’s mouth even as Keith latches on and bites at his neck. “Please?”

Ryou pulls back just slightly and Keith whimpers at the loss, both twins stroking him in response. “Hush, little one,” Ryou says, and settles a bare foot on the arm of the throne, “just a moment and we’ll get you want you need.”

Shiro shifts beneath Keith, changing his grip so that he can reach his fingers forward, damp with Keith’s leavings, and press them to the spread of his brother’s legs. It earns him a bitten out groan, and Keith tips forward, wrapping an arm around Ryou’s waist even as he gets the other behind Shiro’s back to help balance him as he lowers his mouth on to Ryou’s large and upright cock. 

“Fuck,” Ryou hisses in pleasure, leaning into the bend of his knee to open himself further to his brother’s touch. He sets one hand on the top of the throne and threads the other into Keith’s long, dark hair, guiding the motion of his head as it moves easily up and down. “Fuck, Shiro,  _ hurry _ .”

“Patience…” Shiro starts, and Ryou flat out growls, making Keith laugh around his mouthful of cock. Shiro’s finger is back on him, sweeping up every drop of slick from Keith’s belly and cockhead and feeding it into his twin, who groans at the stretch of the fingers within him before they pull back. 

“You fucking tease,” Ryou whines, and Shiro smiles into Keith’s shoulder.

“Not me,” he says, feeling around the join of his body to Keith’s and pulling his fingers back slick and covered in the excess of oil with which Keith had prepared himself. “I’m not the one who went through my whole coronation wearing garments that could have exposed me in my entirety to the assembled populace had there been one strong wind.” He feeds his fingers into Ryou, three this time as his brother bears down, and Keith smiles, pleased. 

“I thought about it, you know,” he says, and Shiro’s hips give an involuntary stutter. “What it would be like for you to take me in front of the crowd.”

“Shiro,” Ryou whines, and Shiro withdraws from Ryou’s body, “ _ please _ .”

“Yes,” Shiro answers simply, and wraps his hand around Keith’s cock, pulling it entirely into the open and holding it up and ready. Ryou steps up onto the other arm of the throne, looming suddenly above them before bending deep and sinking onto Keith with a vibrating groan. Keith shudders hard at the feeling of being enveloped in Ryou’s strong, warm body, the muscles of Ryou’s stomach rippling in front of his face. 

There’s a moment of confusion, where Keith is trying to push down as Shiro is trying to push up and Ryou is readjusting his grip, but Shiro pauses and Ryou stills and Keith takes a long breath to feel the press of bodies around him, filling him and being filled by him. Shiro’s heart is thundering against his back, and the scent of Ryou’s skin fills his nose, and he has never been so happy or so content. He wraps his arms around Ryou’s waist, encouraging him to relax downward, to loosen the load on his arms until he’s settled in Keith’s lap, the weight of him pressing Keith wide around Shiro.

“I’ve got you,” Keith tells him, and Ryou folds nearly in half to kiss him hard and full. 

“I know,” Ryou answers, “and Shiro has us both.”

“Husband,” Shiro murmurs into Keith’s ear, and Keith shivers at the endearment that skins into his skin and finds its way to his heart. “Tell us what you imagined.” He punctuates his command with a roll of his hips that presses Keith upward into Ryou, and Keith’s body lights up like a firework, giving and receiving even as he struggles to string together a coherent thought.

“I was standing,” he starts, and Ryou bends to mouth at his neck as he speaks, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from earlobe to clavicle. “I was standing before you, just as I was today. But,” Shiro rolls his hips again, and Keith gasps, struggling to hang on to Ryou who moans in response. “But I thought… Shiro I thought you would come up behind me, and… and you would notice.”

“Notice that you’d failed to fully dress yourself?” Ryou asks with a breathless chuckle, bitten off as Keith tongues at the nipple in front of his face. 

“Notice an opportunity,” Keith says. “You’d kick my legs apart, and slide your hand up between them from behind, and you’d find…” Shiro’s hand moves down his thigh again to circle his rim with a long, sword-callused finger even as he fucks up into Keith, slow and steady and unstoppable. 

“I’d find this, ready for me?” He asks, and Keith nods furiously. 

“Yes,” he breathes, “just for you. And Ryou, you’d step down to see what was the matter, but Shiro would already have his fingers in me, and you’d see from my face what was going on.”

“I would, too,” Ryou’s voice is dark and full of promise. “I like this, little one. Does Shiro only have his fingers in you, or does he stuff you full of his cock, too?”

“You help him,” Keith gasps out, Shiro’s rhythm beginning to gather momentum. “I wrap my arms around you while he gets himself out and thrusts in.”

“Everyone sees,” Ryou tells him, “they see you taken by their King, their General.”

“Yes,” Keith’s voice is a whimper, “they see what I am willing to give.”

“And what does Ryou get?” Shiro asks, his voice deep, punctuated by the thrust of his hips. Keith can feel the heat gathering in his belly, and buries his forehead in Ryou’s neck, utterly lost for words. 

“I know what I get,” Ryou answers, his strong thighs flexing on either side of Keith’s torso. “I take his pretty cock in my hands, and I get him ready, and I kiss him until he’s moaning while you fuck him, and the crowd loves every minute of it.”

“Yes,” Keith stretches up to bite at Ryou’s jawline and Shiro plants his feet, his hips thrusting up powerfully, pushing Keith into Ryou at a steadily increasing pace. He’s like the unbeatable stallion he rides to war, beautiful and untiring and bold. “Yes, because they see that just as I give myself to you, you give yourselves to me.”

“Yes,” Shiro’s voice is thick, knotted around the word even as he presses his face into Keith’s neck. “ _ Husband _ ,” he says, his voice worshipful, and comes long and hot into Keith, the pulsing of his cock buried in Keith’s belly triggering Keith’s own spend. Shiro reaches up to get a firm hand around Ryou, letting him buck down onto Keith as Shiro pulls him off in a flurry of strokes, his come spurting hot and thick across Keith’s chin and neck. Ryou’s moan echoes around the throne room and Keith collapses back against Shiro’s chest, barely aware of the way hands are stroking him, gentling him as he cools down.

It takes a long moment before they are all breathing normally again, and Keith feels limp, wrung out and overfull of emotion. Ryou pulls himself off Keith, grumbling under his breath as he steps his feet down to the floor and flexes his hands. “Good craftsmanship,” he observes idly, “didn’t even creak.”

Keith finds the energy to snort. “I hope you tipped the maker well,” he says, and Shiro chuckles beneath him.

“We’ll be sure to recommend her work widely,” he says, and Ryou steps back toward them, hose and shirt pulled back on in something approaching a semblance of order. 

“Lift up, sweetheart,” Shiro’s voice is as gentle as his hands as he lifts Keith’s hips up, both of them hissing as Shiro pulls free of Keith’s body. It’s an absence, an emptiness that Keith doesn’t like, and he reaches instinctively for Ryou, who bundles him into his arms and presses a kiss into his hair. 

“We’ve got you, little one,” he says, watching admiringly as his brother stands slowly, shaking his legs to get out the stiffness. Shiro notices him watching and smiles, the moonlight glancing off him like he’s an ethereal creature, a gift of the gods come to earth to bless them all. “My love, my brother,” Ryou murmurs, the words an old mantra that slides off his tongue, a language between the two of them which Keith is only just beginning to understand. 

Shiro’s eyes are warm as he picks up Ryou’s boots and vest, then steps forward to wrap his arms around them both. “Brother mine, beloved,” he answers, pressing a kiss of long familiarity to the mouth that mirrors his own. “Come,” he says, “let us put our husband to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I mention in the previous one and in this one that Keith could have been and is expected to rear children - this is not intended as MPreg, but rather as a sort of foster/adoption situation like many royal houses and clans have done throughout the world. The three of them will raise children as their own, and I may eventually get into that, but this is not an A/B/O verse.


End file.
